


can you whisper (as it crumbles and breaks)?

by explicitly_iridescent



Category: Red Velvet (K-pop Band)
Genre: Angst, F/F, Irene - Freeform, One Shot, Red Velvet, Romance, Seulrene, seulgi - Freeform
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-02-03
Updated: 2017-02-03
Packaged: 2018-09-21 20:31:55
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,151
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/9565133
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/explicitly_iridescent/pseuds/explicitly_iridescent
Summary: irene calls out a silent question, seulgi answers.





	

**Author's Note:**

> yayyyy seulrene. not my best but eh

x

 

 

Irene has never claimed to be different, nor has she ever presented herself to Seulgi as someone that could be different. She supposes it isn't really her fault that Seulgi had hoped for far more than she could ever really give her, that Seulgi had claimed Irene was different— that this time was different. 

But, Irene supposes, she had never claimed otherwise as well. 

(Perhaps she had liked the feeling of someone thinking that Irene could be the one, that Irene could be a second chance, a new beginning, a hopeful start.)

 

 

 

x

 

 

Their love is a quiet one. It's filled with unspoken words, affectionate touches, word-heavy glances, and heartbeat songs. 

Irene is not one for many words, and Seulgi likes to listen. 

(Irene should've known, back then, that it would have never worked, because neither of them would've never talked.)

 

 

 

x

 

 

 

Their love starts softly, gently, silently. It's a shadow in the night, a monster under the bed, a light drizzle from the sky. 

It creeps up, slowly, slowly, slowly, silent and unnoticeable—

Irene doesn't notice at first. She doesn't notice the way she starts looking at Seulgi with love songs tattooed in her eyes. She doesn't notice how her hands always seem to look for Seulgi's, always wanting to touch, to hold, to keep. She doesn't notice how her tongue ties itself even more when she's with Seulgi. 

It's quiet, dangerous, and gentle as it creeps up into her heart, and into her thoughts. 

(Seulgi, Seulgi, Seulgi.)

It settles itself into her rib cage, making it a home for affection and for Seulgi, and she doesn't notice at all. It's slow and silent, and then it happens all at once. 

 

 

 

x

 

 

 

Seulgi is soft. 

Her hair is like silk, her body is all flesh and bending bones, her skin is open, and her eyes are soft. 

Irene touches her carefully, carefully, carefully. She imagines a sign written on the top of Seulgi's flesh, stitched into her skin. 

(Warning: Fragile, handle with care.) 

Irene traces her features, going over the curves and edges, cautious around the sharper parts, staying over the bridge and ridges of Seulgi's rib cage. 

She outlined the area where she thinks, and feels, Seulgi's heart would be. She feels silent heartbeats against her palm. 

 

 

 

x

 

 

 

There are no love songs about them, for them, and in them. The only song they have is one with the verses filled with glances, stares, and looks, and the chorus nothing but softly spoken promises, confessions, and words, words, words, and the bridge would be something like the way Seulgi would pepper Irene with ghost kisses, barely there, but there nonetheless, and somewhat quiet and fading, fading, fading. 

Irene has never liked love songs, anyway. 

 

 

 

 

x

 

 

 

There is something about them that is hard to grasp. There are no jaunty lines or crooked edges. There are no nooks or crannies to hold on too. 

Something about their love is somewhat fading. Not gone, but barely there. But it's always been like that. It's always been shadow touches, ghost kisses, and silent promises. It's a love song that's not played or heard, it's a love that's not said but felt. 

It's quite easy to let go off, and sometimes, Irene wonders if she and Seulgi will one day. 

It's quite difficult to hold, to grasp, to see sometimes. Look at the fine print. Read between the lines. Find the needle in the haystack. It's not easy. 

But, Irene thinks, good things are never easy anyway. 

 

 

 

x

 

 

 

They work, surprisingly, really well together. Irene's purple whispers and Seulgi's orange laughter somehow mixes together to make a dull, bleak, gray. 

It's strange how Seulgi's bright energy, that can lift a room into space, that can light sparks in the hearts of many, that is bright orange blaring and screaming with hope and kindness, could ever mix with Irene's subtle, sweet, soft purple and make something as unnoticeable and blank as gray. 

Between Irene's purple smiles and Seulgi's orange giggles is a gray area that composed of their kisses, hand holding, and interlocked hearts. 

Gray is a color Irene can learn to like. 

 

 

 

x

 

 

 

Their fights are quiet too. 

Like all relationships, there are arguments, misunderstandings, hurt feelings, and mistakes made. It's normal. Every functioning relationship between two humans have always needed a little strain to keep it growing and evolving and moving. 

Irene and Seulgi fight in silent ways. Seulgi is normally a noisy person, but with Irene she is quiet, much like their love. 

Their fights are waged in hands that refuse to touch, in glances that are fleeting, in words that are low, sharp, and filled with poison. 

Somehow, it hurts more. 

 

 

 

x

 

 

 

They make up and come together silently as well. Like two ships in the night, they drift pass each other, and suddenly, suddenly, suddenly, their hearts will scream "home!" and a compass and lighthouse will guide them to each other. 

They come together as quietly as two puzzle pieces fit against each other, as a key goes into a lock— filling in the spaces, slotting next to each other with apologies, and like magnets, like planets with orbits around each other, they're fine and still very much in love. 

 

 

 

x

 

 

 

They start to fall apart as quietly as they fell in love. 

It's teardrops falling from the sky, it's promises never spoken, it's hands left cold by shadow touches, it's lips gone dead from ghost kisses. 

They fall apart as silently as they had come together, moving away from each other like two silhouettes in a dark alley, with paths meant to cross but never intertwine. 

Irene's purple starts to separate itself from the gray of their love, and Seulgi's orange starts to escape. Their touches are rare, their kisses non-existent, and their silent promises find no replies or truth in it anymore. 

Irene supposes that it would have never worked out from the start. She supposes she should have known. Silence is deadly, and neither one of them has ever spoken up to break it. 

In turn, their hearts break instead. 

 

 

 

x

 

 

 

Desperate, palms pressed against Seulgi's chest, wanting to feel the heartbeat that had sung silent songs to her, Irene wills herself to speak up. 

Irene calls out a silent question. 

(Does your heart still sing a silent song for me? Is it a love song?) 

Seulgi's chest cavity whispers out a hollow answer. 

Irene pulls her hands away, and allows gentle tears to fall from her eyes. 

The song she feels from Seulgi's broken heartbeats is a tragedy. Not a love song. 

 

 

 

x

 

 

 

(Can you whisper, as it crumbles and breaks?)

 

 

 

x

 

 

 

The buildings inside Irene's heart crumble, and Seulgi's fragile, fragile (handle with care) heart breaks. 

It all starts in silence, and ends in silence. There are whispers, and broken heartbeats, and answered questions that were better of left unanswered. 

 

x

 

 

the end.

**Author's Note:**

> please leave a comment or some kudos if you enjoyed this crappy one shot. if you'd like to request more stories, please do.


End file.
